Flight of Icarus
by Alejux
Summary: Logan's thoughts, from the night he met Max to the day he tried to end his life. And after.
1. Flight of Icarus (I)

This is not really a fanfic. It's mostly a description of the events that happened since the first episode until the end of Female Trouble, and later. All through Logan's POV. Mostly ANGST. 

All the characters of Dark Angel belong to Charles Eglee, James Cameron. 

This is my first attempt to do anything remotely close to a fanfic. So please be gentle in the reviews (if there are any), or else I might get depressed and try to kill myself. ;)

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"Flight of Icarus" 

Ever since I was shot, Eyes-only began to have a whole new meaning to me. 

Before the incident, it just was a way I found to make a difference in people's lives. To make the world a better place. Some might say that "Eyes" was born out of a rich boy's guilt. For having everything too easy, while the world outside became increasingly darker and colder. Maybe they're right. But then again, they don't really know me. 

After I landed in the wheelchair, Eyes-Only became everything to me. It was the soul purpose of my existence. The only way I could look at myself in the mirror and not see some pathetic cripple, but instead, see a person who deserved respect. From myself and from others. And from Max. 

Ah, Max. How can I write about my life since that day without mentioning her in each and every paragraph. I had never met anyone like her before. Someone so mysterious, complex and wonderful. Ever since we first met that night, I couldn't keep my mind off of her. 

. . . 

The first few weeks after the incident, was one of the worst periods of my life, so far. The doctors said I was lucky that the damage in my spinal cord would only affect my legs, and that I still would have control of my bladder and other normal body functions. Well, forgive me if I didn't feel so lucky at the time. 

But I'm not the kind of person that gives up so easily. I was determined to regain my legs. I hired a physical therapist, who later on turned out to be a good friend and ally. My life now resumed to three things. Continue my work with Eyes-Only, regain my leg movements and think about her. Yes, I still couldn't help thinking of her. Especially after I found out that not only did she save my life in the hospital, but also was able to rescue the kid from Sonrisa's men and somehow arrange his death. I was in total and complete awe. How incredible would it be to have her in my crusade?

Not a day went by when I didn't think of her. I wondered if she ever thought about me. If she felt guilty for not helping me the first time. I daydreamed many times that she would come to my apartment, to see how I was doing. Well, I didn't really expect her to come to me just for my looks, or even for the crusade. My hopes relied mainly on the fact that I was probably the only one she knew that could help her find the others like her. I even dug up some information on one of her possible "siblings", in case she did come by. And for my surprise, she came. 

It was in the middle of an Eyes-only broadcast. Somehow (I don't know how she does that), she managed to get inside my apartment and sneak up on me. I was able to play it cool, and tried to recruit her to help Eyes-Only in a mission that I was working at the time. Her tough-ass attitude facade told me that appealing to her sense of justice wouldn't work, so I used my last card, and gave her the information I had on one of her siblings. From then on, we made an arrangement. She would help me on my missions and in exchange I would help her find the others. 

. . . 

As time went by, we became closer, and although neither one of us would admit, our relationship became more then just work. Much more. I would give excuses for her to come by, only to surprise her with one of my out-of this-world gourmet dinners, which she more than happily accepted. She would also come by a few times, without being invited, and break in to my apartment (bad habits are hard to die), giving some lame excuse for being there. We would talk for hours and hours. I guess I was the first person in a long time that really knew who and what she was. A few times, she would even open her heart to me, and talk about her past at manticore. Not to mention that I was the first person she would go to when her seizures kicked in. 

As time passed, another thing happened. My frustration began to surface. I began face a fact that I was not willing to face before. I would never walk again. It's funny how one tiny drop of hope can make everything in your life look brighter. When you loose that hope, and you're forced to face reality, you start seeing things through a whole new perspective. 

I tried the best I could to repress my feelings of anger and self pity deep inside, and focused all that I could on Eyes-only. But on occasions (more and more frequent), those feelings would resurface. Like the time I fell out of the wheelchair when Max was entering my apartment, and ended lashing out on her. I couldn't let her see me as I was starting to see myself. A pathetic cripple. I couldn't show her my weaknesses. Not to her. For her, I had to be the almighty Eyes-only. Who helps taking down the bad guys and brings justice to the world. 

. . . 

They say that sometimes we don't treasure the things we have, until we loose them. That statement became frighteningly real to me, in that one dreaded day. I was about to loose two of the most important things in my life. I would have to do a risky operation that could either kill me, or turn me into a tetraplegic. And to top it all, I was about to help Max run away from Seattle (and my life) forever. 

. . . 

She kissed me! She asked me to run with off with her, which we both knew wouldn't happen. Then when I least expected she kissed me, passionately. 

How can a simple kiss take you to the wonders of heaven and then throw you down into the very depths of hell. That's where I was. Hell. Looking out into the rain, from my penthouse view, trying to keep my mind from the void that was eating my soul, when suddenly I felt an extremely sharp pain, and darkness took over me. 

As you all know, she came back for me. She somehow found out I was in trouble, and sacrificed herself to save me. It all ended well though. Thanks to Zack and his sacrifice. No matter how much of a tight-ass he is, and no matter what happens, I'll always respect and be grateful for his action that day. Like me, he loves her in a way he can't admit. 

From then on, life continued much the same. Max and I agreed in perfect synchronism not to make a big deal out of the kiss we shared. But things would never really be the same. Since I was already a pro, in the art of suppressing feelings (and so was she), I made an effort to hide my ever increasing feelings for Max behind our work relation. I had to do it. I couldn't let myself ruin our friendship, by pursuing something that I knew was impossible. Don't get me wrong. I knew by then, that I meant a lot to her. But I couldn't see her being anything more than a friend to me. Only in my dreams. She was a super-human. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She could have anyone. Why would she want to be with me? Even if I found the courage to give in into my true feelings, and we ended up together, it would only a matter of time before she realized that I was holding her down. Putting her life at risk and my own. I had too much to loose. 

And then, a miracle happened... 

I have my legs back again. A whole new world presents itself before my eyes. A world full of possibilities. I feel now that anything is possible. I have control of my life again. I have the power and confidence to pursue all of my most intimate dreams, which I've been suppressing ever since I got in the chair. I can have Max. I'm still a bit scared to approach her, and I sense she's even more scared then I. so I decided to take things slowly. Let it happen in its right momentum. Like she said, "There's is always tomorrow...". 

Sometimes there isn't. 

All those dreams, of living a normal life. All those dreams of walking with Max along a beach shore, dancing with her, holding her firmly in my arms as we kiss. They are nothing more then that now. Dreams. It's only a matter of time before I loose my legs again. I can't help feeling like Icarus, who dared to fly with his wings made of wax, but flew to close to the sun, only to fall from the heavens as his wings melted. I flew to close to the sun. What right had I to think I deserved happiness in my life? It was pure ambition. Just because I try to make the world a better place, doesn't mean I'll be rewarded for that. It doesn't work that way. I know that now. 

So here I am now. Back in the deep bottom of the hole I tried so hard to get out of. Only now I'm tired. I have little strength left. It's dark here in the bottom. I can't see anything to get a hold of. The downtrodden? No. Who am I to think that I can make a difference anyway? Max? No. She's out of reach again. Forever. 

I can't see a way out of this darkness. So I'll embrace it, and welcome the blissful oblivion that only death can provide. 

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	2. Flight of Icarus (II)

Author's note: I wasn't going to continue, but I gave up to temptation, since many people asked me to go on.

Author's note(2): I elevated the rating of this one to R, because it's kind of heavy.

Now with the story...

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PART II 

It's been a long time since I watched the sunrise from my living room window. I used to do it all the time. It's beautiful. Especially in days like these, after a night of heavy rain. It seems so peaceful... quiet. You can see the early sunrays shooting through the dense fog, creating this incredible pattern of light and color. Like in a Salvador Dali painting. 

Today, this spectacle holds a new meaning, knowing it would never have come to me, had I finished what I started yesterday. 

The demons are gone now. Not forever though. I know they're hiding somewhere, waiting for the right time to engulf me in darkness again, blinding me to beauty. All beauty. But they're gone now. 

As I sit here, my mind keeps going through the events that happened yesterday. From the news of Dr. Vertes's death, to the feelings of shame and guilt, which kept me awake until now. I feel shame, for being so weak and selfish. And guilt, for not thinking of her. My angel. 

My mind keeps going over and over that moment, when she hugged me, and uttered words of concern for me. Words so full of emotion. Even with her seizures, I've never seen her so helpless and vulnerable. She will never know how much it hurt me, seeing her like that, knowing that I was the cause of it. 

I keep creating this scene in my head, where she enters my apartment, only to find me there, by my computer table, with my brains blown off. How could I think of doing this to her? I keep saying to myself that I wasn't thinking at the time. But it's no good. The guilt won't leave me.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

People say, that we are what we know. That our personalities are constantly being reshaped with every new experience. I guess that is true. Eyes-only would've never been born if it weren't for the pulse. Out of all the events that happened right after the pulse, Michael's death changed me the most. The memories of that day still haunt me. 

-Michael's Story- 

Mike was a good friend. We were nothing alike, which sometimes pissed me off. I was this aspiring journalist, already unconformed with the injustices of the world. Maybe it was a rich boy's guilt at the time. But than there was Mike. He couldn't give a rat's ass about anything that didn't wear a dress. His priorities in life were three: Girls, Beer and Girls. As long as those still existed, the hell with everything else. 

I didn't make much of it, when I heard about his disappearance. In my mind, he was probably on his way to Mexico with some chick he met at a bar somewhere. But that all changed when I saw him. 

I've been running over and over the footage of the last riot, which happened near the Seattle City Hall. By some strange coincidence, the footage ended before the part where the student protesters "allegedly" began shooting at the police, which so innocently returned fire, killing over 22 students. What was more incredible, is that no police officers were wounded. 

It was probably the 15th time I viewed the flic, when suddenly my heart sank. His face caught my attention. He was in the corner of video, running away from the scene, helping some girl who was having difficulties walking. At some point, you could see him looking back, at the confusion. I could swear, that even though it was small on the screen, I could see the fear in his face. 

I had to know if he was one of the victims. I started inquiring the police on the whereabouts of the bodies of the students. After exhausting searches, and a good deal of bribe, I was taken to a place, where the unidentified bodies were being brought. 

Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. 

It was a warehouse, near the docks. Even from the outside, you were aware of the putrid stench that came from inside those walls. When I close my eyes, I can still see the bodies. Hundreds of them. Some half covered with white sheets, others fully exposed, piled up like sacks of potatoes.

There were men and women of all ages. Even children. Some bodies seemed to be there for days, hence the intolerable smell of rot. 

Every part of my body screamed for me to get out of there. But I couldn't go back then. I started roaming across the endless corridors formed by the corpses, trying to avoid stepping on any body parts. Examining the bodies best I could, trying to find a familiar face, but hoping not to. I had to use all my strength not to give in to the sickness that was building inside me. It must have taken no more than ten minutes to find him. The longest ten minutes of my life. His body was naked and uncovered. It seemed so lifeless. Only a shell. You couldn't notice any signs of wounds except for a tiny hole near his belly. 

- End of Michael's Story- 

Now here I am. Eyes-only is back. After ten years, I may finally have the chance to bring the people behind all those massacres, to justice. At least some of them.

It will be good for me to focus on an objective for a change. To get my mind off of Max and my problems. I know she's trying her best to be there for me, but sometimes she just irritates the hell out of me, acting like nothing's happened. Like my life doesn't have to change because I'm in the chair again. The hell it doesn't ! Everything's different now. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When I was young. Whenever I went my uncle's cabin, I would always climb to this cliff located a mile away from the house. It was the highest one in the area, so it gave us a 360 degrees view of the region. From there, we could see the cabin, the lakes, and the sunset. I don't recall ever seeing a sunset so beautiful. I would go alone there sometimes, and watched as the sky changed slowly from clear blue, to crimson, and then black. 

I spent the whole week, thinking of the trip Max and I were supposed to make. I saw ourselves hiking through woods near my uncle's cabin, going all the way up to the cliff. And there, I would take her in my arms and kiss her, as the sun faded in the horizon. They're just memories of moments I'll never have. It's all different now. Forgive me if I don't feel like going anymore, but rolling my wheelchair over unleveled terrain, with Max looming over me, is not my idea of fun. I know she'll be mad. But I won't go. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I've been having a hard time trying to find sector passes, which I need, in order to investigate a witness who was present in one of the massacres. When Max reminded me of this trip we were supposed to take and showed me the VIP sector passes she worked so hard to get, I figured, Cape Haven sounds like a nice enough place. As long as Max has her S'mores, she'll be happy. And it's not like I'm leading her to danger or anything...


	3. Haven I - (After bar fight)

AUTHORS NOTES (1):   
Sorry for this part being so short. I seem to be lacking the time to write.   
As to those of you who aren't familar with the rest of this story, it is a dissection of Logan's mind, in moments that have great impact on him. In the case of this chapter, it tries to show some of his feelings of fustration and insecurity, after the scene from the bar in the episode HAVEN. In my next story, I'll try to describe Logan's thoughts after the killing. 

AUTHORS NOTES (2):   
For those who are not familiar, MORPHEUS is the greek god of sleep (or dreams). 

* * *

_/Logan's thoughts driving Max back from the bar fight in Haven/_   


~ Only one more mile ~ 

Only one more mile...   
Only one more mile until I can seek refuge in my room. Embrace the sweet oblivion that is sleep.   
Only one more mile until I will no longer have to restrain myself from looking into her eyes.   
I know what I'll see when I look at them. Pity. I don't want her pity. I don't need it. I feel small enough already. Pathetic. Not a man at all.   
I have to keep my eyes on the road ahead. Forget about her haunting presence at my side, on the passenger seat.   
Sigh! Only one more mile...   


_/Back in the house/_   


~Praying to Morpheus ~ 

I'm alone in my room now, but her presence still haunts me.   
As I lay here in my bed, I pray to morpheus to take over my conscience, and provide me the forgetfulness I so much desire. 

God! Why did I have to wake up this morning at all? 

First, I have a fight with Max, who thinks everything I do is an obsession. In her mind. Why should I try to bring the people behind a "simple" massacre to justice, when I could stay here, eating s'mores all day? It's so typical of her. 

Then, I find out, that this whole trip to Haven was a waste of time. The guy I came here to see, won't talk. He's too confortable burying his past, along with all guilt and regrets from his fomer life. I'd might as well just gone to my uncle's cabin with Max. Then again, I might as well just stayed home sleeping. 

Finally, to finish, what already wasn't the best day of my life, I suffered one of the most humiliating moments to be experienced by men. She must still be wandering why would I do such a stupid thing. Me, a guy in a wheelchair try to defend her, a genetically enhanced killing machine. She's probably saying to herself that it's a guy thing. Well, she's correct. But she can't possibily begin to undestand what I'm going through. How could she? She's not a man, and she's not weak. I, on the other hand, am both. I'm supposed to be the one who protects her, who takes care of her. It's in my genes. It's part of my primal male intinct, going back to the time mankind lived in caves. But even through my weakness, I'm still a man. I have to see myself as one. And most of all, I have to make her see me as one. 

To let those guys disrespect her in my face, would be the proof, that what this small voice in my head was saying was true. That I wasn't a real man. I had to shut that voice down, no matter the consequences, I would have to stand my ground, and prove to myself, Max and those bastards, that I deserved respect. 

Well, things didn't go as well as expected, to say the least. The respect I so much longed for, was gone, along with the little I had left. My so called male ego, was crushed to a pulp, taking a beating with each blow Max delivered upon those goons, while I laid there struggling patheticaly on the floor, like a turtle who's been flipped over on it's back. 

But the worst part was still to come... 

I had to keep myself from crying of shame, as I wheeled myself out of the bar, while what seemed like a million eyes, burned my skin, with all their unwanted pity. 

So I lay here in my bed, praying to morpheus, to release my mind from this night, and deliver me to a new morning. And hopefully, to a better day.   


TBC 


End file.
